


The Wager

by ImhereImQuire



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: First gay experience, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:52:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImhereImQuire/pseuds/ImhereImQuire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrion spies a gorgeous girl in a brothel window in Oldtown. Except it isn't a girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“And what delights might we provide you with this afternoon, m’lord?”

“There was a young woman in the window of the top floor...” he began and she looked confused.

“M’lord, there’s no girl up in the eaves.” She laughed.

“There was though. She had dark curls, and she was very pretty,” he insisted. Was the girl her own daughter, he wondered. Was she trying to spare her own blood the ordeal of having to lie with the imp?

“Dark hair... you don’t mean Satin, do you?”

He thought of the vibrant green robe that she was wearing. He’d thought it was silk, but it might well have been satin, and such a thing was less likely to be a coincidence than some trade gimmick. “I might well,” he said, irritated. “Why, is she unavailable? On her blood?”

“Well no, m’lord… that’s one problem you won’t have with our Satin. He’s a boy, m’lord.” she laughed.  “Not that you’d know it, with his paint on. He’s a pretty one, that child. Likely not to your tastes though. “

“Are you sure..?” it was a silly question, but he was quite unable to believe that he’d been taken in by a boy. She –he, he corrected himself- had been so beautiful , too…

“Quite, m’lord. Whole and intact, too. But you’re not the first man to get the wrong impression…”

There was a creak upon the stairs.

“Hello, Lord Tyrion…” the voice was a silken purr, melodious and warm, so invitingly warm. “Down from the tourney at Highgarden?”

Tyrion turned and there he was, the one with the fair face and the ebony ringlets, gliding down the stairs to meet him. “Sorry that I took so long, but I thought that you might prefer me in your own colours. What do you think?” he added with a broad smile, and when he did a slow twirl to show off the bright crimson robe he had changed into the knowledge of what lay beneath it did nothing to curb his desire.

The madam clucked disapprovingly, waving her hand to shoo the youth away. “He thought you were a maid, Satin, honestly… Now Selena… she has dark hair, if that’s what you’re after.  She’s entertaining at present, but if you’d like to wait she should be down at any time…”

Tyrion wrinkled his nose with distaste. “I’m sure she’ll have earned herself a rest,” he said diplomatically, the idea of being taken into a bed still warm from the last man a notion he could quite live without.

“Undoubtedly,” the boy said as he slipped from the stairs and moved to kneel by his side. “She’s a bit… tired, if you get my meaning. Whereas I am fresh as the coastal breeze…” he whispered wickedly. “You liked me well enough from the window,” he added, his arm slung about the other’s shoulders with an easy intimacy that was entirely too beguiling.

“When I thought you were...” Tyrion began, but the boy put his fingers across his lips, cutting him off.

“Warm, and willing, sweet, and eager to lay back and enjoy your cock?” he asked, and Tyrion found himself nodding, a little speechless.

“I’ve never had a lord before…. Have you ever had a boy?” the pretty whore asked and again he found himself shaking his head without speaking, a rare thing for a man such as himself.

“Wonderful… it’ll be a first for us both then, Lord Tyrion. I’ll make you a wager… come up with me, and if we get into it and you decide you’d rather have a woman after all then we can part ways, you can send for a girl and I won’t charge you a half penny. But,” he held up his finger, “If you do decide you like me then you pay the usual… aaaaand you come back tomorrow with a nice present for me and we go another round.”

The boy was unbelievable, so full of cheer and charm and devilry, and so quick with his tongue that Tyrion could only stare at him for a long moment. Then he broke into a laugh. “Try everything once, my beauty,” he grinned. “You have yourself a wager. Shall we shake on it then?” the boy extended his arm but it wasn’t his hand which he sought to take and when Tyrion felt the intoxicating squeeze upon his cock he was already trying to decide what would make a fitting present.


	2. Chapter 2

The room was a shrine to gaudiness and everything from the mismatch of styles to the rainbow’s fart of colours screamed tart. That being said the bed looked comfortable and clean, the air smelled of incense rather than sweat and the collection of cushions which crowded each available surface from bed to windowsill gave it a sort of charm even if the variety of colours were likely to give him a headache.

“I love fine things,” the boy confided cheerfully as he cast a hand around the room. It was clear from the flourish his gesture ended on the bed canopy, with its sashes and scraps of brightly dyed silks and cloth of gold, was his greatest pride, and Tyrion could almost believe that pride was all it was, and not intended as a less than subtle hint that he appreciated generosity in his suitors.

The boy was looking at him expectantly and he realised that some response was warranted. “It’s all I could have hoped,” he replied diplomatically and the way that the boy’s smile froze for just a moment told Tyrion that the other was sharper he had given credit for, and had caught on to the fact that he had just been slighted in a way that many would not.

“How old are you?” he asked as the boy tactfully ignored the slight and sat upon his bed, resting back on his hands. It was difficult to tell beneath the paint, given his prettiness.

Satin smiled coyly. “Well that depends, my lord…” he said slowly, swinging a foot languidly.

“On how old I’d like you to be,” Tyrion finished wearily. This was something he was very used to. “The truth will suffice.”

The other’s pretty lips pulled into a small pout as he was predicted. “Four and ten, my lord,” he said, more seriously. “Will that be a problem?” he asked, sounding a little concerned.

Tyrion had to think before answering. Fourteen was younger than his tastes usually ran, but the boy looked lively, well cared for, and had pressed for his custom with an eagerness which made it hard to see him as anything but willing even if it were motivated by greed rather than lust. He would not enjoy him him, but it seemed a fair portion of his coin stayed with him and not the house, and he would doubtless enjoy adding some other trinket or bauble to his collection of 'treasures'. “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “You seem to know your own mind well enough,” he said eventually, getting a nod and a smile in response.

“That I do, my lord. But I would also know yours…” he purred, slowly putting his foot down upon the boards. The gesture was as seductive and as purposeful than any he’d seen from a woman, his thigh exposed momentarily, smooth and golden and Tyrion found his gaze venturing upward, entranced.

Not half so much as you would know my coin, thought Tyrion, though he was surprised that the pretty little catamite hadn’t suggested that it was his body he wanted. “… And other organs besides,” Satin added. Ah, there it is, Tyrion thought to himself. It was predictable and yet if the boy hadn’t thrown it in he would have been disappointed.

“You are lovely,” he admitted, as he watched the continued display that Satin made of himself with nothing but appreciation. Everything about him was shameless and erotically charged, and yet there seemed something shy and oddly vulnerable in the way that he watched him from beneath lowered lashes, and in the way that those fingers ran across the hem of his satin robe. It was an act, of course, but a beautiful one, one he found himself growing hard watching.

“Thank you. I was hoping you’d stop for me. There was just something about you…” the boy breathed, and though Tyrion knew it was his name and his wealth he smiled just the same. They weren't things many men could lay claim to. “Would you like some wine, Lord Tyrion?" he could see the other's suspicion. "I keep a bottle of good stuff in. If you can’t drink well in the reach then where can you?” he added quickly.

By the time that Tyrion nodded the boy was up from the bed and upon his knees, bent to search beneath the bed for a bottle of wine, and the older man was presented with a sweet sight indeed for boy had a nice, rounded curve to his arse, even beneath the drape of red satin. It was too much of a temptation for Tyrion, and he soon found himself laying a hand upon the other’s rear, squeezing lightly. There was little difference between boy and girl with him bent like this, and even the little chuckle that he got in response held a touch of the feminine to it. He still has a cock though, Tyrion reminded himself. And he was still not a maid. But he didn’t take his hand away, even when the boy spent an entirely contrived amount of time ‘trying to find the bottle’.

“Well, that was bold,” the other grinned when he finally emerged, bottle neck in hand. “But you don’t want me to stay like that, do you?” he asked.

Tyrion looked at the boy’s ebony curls, and the dark eyes made huge with their artfully smudged rings of kohl, his eyes hovering upon dark stained lips. “No. No, I don’t think that I do,” he admitted, bending forward to take the cork between his teeth and dragging it loose.  He was every bit as beautiful as he had appeared in the window, and even close up it was hard to remember that he was anything but a girl, not until he spoke.

“I’ll bring it over to the bed then… “ he smiled, hopping up on the bed and offering a hand to help the lord up to join him. There were goblets upon the table which were soon filled, and as he sat back against the pillows to drink the boy curled about his side, sipping his honey-wine with the delicacy of a highborn lady. The wine was too sweet for Tyrion’s own tastes, but the company was just sweet enough, and he soon found himself tangling his fingers in the other’s hair as the other’s lips nestled against his ear.

“I’ve never been with a lord… and they say you’re the cleverest lord in the seven kingdoms,” the boy purred, coiling around him with neither a trace of hesitation, nor disgust. “I like smart men,” he continued as he began to help the other divest himself of his doublet. It was too hot for so heavy a garment and Tyrion was glad to be rid of it, gladder still for the softness of the other’s hands, though the softness wasn’t echoed against his thigh.

“Is something wrong?” he asked softly and Tyrion blinked. There wasn’t really, but it was still a swift and startling reminder of what lay beneath that pretty little robe, and one he hadn’t been quite prepared for. Satin soon realised what it was, and he looked a little abashed as he looked down. “Oh… forgive me my lord but you…” he gave a soft chuckle, “excite me. I can better arrange it if you’d prefer.”

For a moment the blonde just stopped and stared at the other. The press of that rigid little rod against his side told a truth that he would never have believed in a thousand years if it had come from the other’s lips alone. _He wants me_ , Tyrion thought to himself, any disgust for what the other possessed buried beneath the incredible prospect that the pillow boy might actually have measure of desire for him, might feel anything other than disgust.  “No,” he replied hoarsely, gazing at those dragon glass like shining eyes with utter wonder. “There’s no need. Stay as you are. Stay exactly as you are.”

Satin smiled at that and shifted to press closer. “See… nothing to be frightened of, my lord, nothing at all…” his hand pressed over the older man’s own hardness with a happy little smirk. “Certainly not compared to that.”

Tyrion laughed warmly. He was used to the whores he lay with remarking upon his equipage, it was practically mandatory, but the boy didn’t show the evident surprise which he found so tiresome, and that charmed him.

“Do you always get so excited?” he asked, curious enough that he forgot his own cynicism.

“No,” the other replied. “I like men, which is more than you can say for all of the boys selling themselves along this street, but I like some men a lot more than others, if you get me,”  he elaborated as he deftly unfastened the other’s laces and began to stroke the older man’s length.

“And you like this?” he asked, knowing that no whore would tell him otherwise, but more able to believe it with this young thing’s cock pressed stiff against his hip than he ever had.

“Oh yes,” the boy replied with great certainly, his ruby lips raising into a grin. “I like this well enough… and it’s clear that you do, too, so I’m claiming victory on our wager. “ he grinned, looking quite triumphant.

Tyrion gave a quiet groan as his cock was worked with an expert hand. “Conceded,” he admitted, though it was a sweet enough defeat that he didn’t dwell upon what it might make him, what others might think, not with so skilled a hand working his cock.

“Glad to hear it,” beamed the boy as he lowered his head and the warmth of his lips as they enclosed across the head of his prick brought a gasp from the blonde. Oh, this pretty forest child was good, so good, his mouth hot and eager, his throat more welcoming than any he had known, the way that he choked just enough to be flattering perfection itself.

He thought about holding off his peak, the prospect of sampling Satin’s other charms tantalising....but the thought of it alone, combined with some sudden contraction of the other’s lips proved too much and he soon shot his seed in the back of the pillow boy’s throat, eyes rolling back as he took his pleasure.

For a long moment the boy remained where he was, mouth continuing to work, but eventually his head rose, tongue running across his lips without a touch of shame. “Here, let me refill your glass,” he smiled.

“And your own,” Tyrion replied. He had a sudden notion to kiss the boy but not with the taste of himself still on the other’s lips. That was.... not to his taste 

"If I must" he replied with a mock pout that was so enchanting that the blonde, almost, _almost_ kissed him right there and then, the trace of seed be damned.


End file.
